Morning People
by nonsequiturvy
Summary: Regina is a morning person. Robin is most definitely not. Won't even budge when the five o'clock alarm goes off. Until she devises a plan of action that he'll have a much harder time sleeping through...


**A/N:** An oldie that I've had up on my tumblr forever and forgot to post here, for some silly reason. Based on a comment from **emily31594**: "Here's a head canon I have: Robin hates waking in the morning but Regina is a morning person and she figured out she can get him to wake up for early morning sex."_  
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><p><em>Morning People<em>

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><p>There are those types of people who find themselves up before the sun is, with a cup of tea in one hand and scrolling through the morning news with the other, herself included; but Regina discovers early on in their relationship that Robin is most certainly not one of them.<p>

It's a harmless adjustment at first. If she doesn't make it into her office until half past nine every day because Robin has taken to tightening his arm around her waist as soon as her alarm goes off, well, no matter; it's difficult to say no to the heat of his body, or to the answering warmth that pools deep within her own as he nestles closer into the curve of her back, and she's her own boss, anyway. Besides, her workspace is literally down the hall from the bedroom, and it's not like her conference callers will notice if she's still in her silk pajamas with her hair uncombed, or if her boyfriend ambles in just after noon, drunk off sleep, to nuzzle her neck from behind. (Until she kicks him out before his hands travel far too low to be appropriate when there's work to be done, and he's the reason why she's already three hours behind on it in the first place.)

But the leisurely days of summer come to a close as the school year draws near, and while budget reports and town council minutes can await review until well after Robin decides to wake up or later, preparing the boys' lunches and taking them to school most definitely cannot. So a week before the big day (Henry does this song and dance every year, but it will be Roland's first time in a structured classroom setting and she wants the experience to be nothing short of absolutely perfect for him), Regina devises a plan.

Robin doesn't respond to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, or his favorite cup of tea—she's tried all these tactics in the past, and then some—but one morning, when she turns off her five o'clock alarm with another resigned sigh, draws his arm across her middle and snuggles her bottom deeper into his belly, he stirs.

Hmmm.

She wiggles again, experimentally this time, targeting the lower parts of his body, and his fingers clench ever so slightly, then drag over her side to grip there. His breathing is hot against her neck but still deep and even, so she lifts her leg and wraps it around his, trailing a toe down his bare skin.

The rise and fall of his chest accelerates, and she feels him twitch against her back. A slow smile curls her lips before he's even spoken—"Just what do you think you're going on about?"—his voice is amused, though still husky with sleep, and she shivers at the sound.

"Oh, did I wake you?" Regina asks innocently, and even if he hadn't uttered a single word, from the way his hand is making its way down to squeeze her bare thigh, and the way his hips are slowly grinding his growing erection against her bottom, she knows that yes, yes, she most certainly has.

Her smile is triumphant now, then registers a small amount of surprise as he flips her suddenly onto her back, tossing a leg around so that he's straddling her.

"Two can play this game, darling," Robin tells her before dipping down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses into her neck, and as she threads her fingers through his hair she smiles again; he doesn't know it, but she's already won.

Just for good measure, though, she snakes her hand between them, palm coasting against his stomach—clenched in his efforts of restraint to not sink down into her right away—until she reaches his cock, and it twitches into her hand as she grips him there and caresses, torturously slow. His kisses pause to allow the gasp that tumbles out of him, utterly distracted, and she uses the opportunity to shove him onto his back; he goes willingly, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack, open. He lets out a small groan as she positions her center over his tip, hand coasting up and down all the while, and his hands lift to squeeze her waist as his hips jerk up, brushing his length against her clit.

"Mm," is all she can say, back arching languidly as he fills her to the hilt, the sensation of him hard and throbbing inside of her sending delicious little shocks throughout her spine until her vision blurs and her toes tingle; and as her hips move to meet his, with his hands there to help guide her up and down back onto him, she realizes that she likes this side of Robin she rarely gets to see, the side of him that's amenable to losing precious sleep, that's all too willing to let her take it from him.

He grunts beneath her as the roll of her hips quickens, his eyes going unfocused as he abandons his post at her waist to drag palms over both breasts, finding her nipples, teasing them with deft fingers. Her whole being positively thrums as she watches his head fall back into the pillows with another gasp, a strangled groan, his hips come up to rut against hers with more frantic energy and one hand spasms over her breast as he brings the other down underneath her gyrating motions, finds her clit, and rubs.

Regina scrambles to grab fistfuls of blanket, anchoring her body back into his, and an exquisite chill darts up her spine as she rocks against his skillful fingers, sliding him in and out of her at an increasingly erratic pace ("Gods, Regina," he struggles out between gasps, head lifting back up so he can watch where their bodies join, and the mesmerized look on his face, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, is the single most erotic thing she's ever seen).

She cries out as the sensation jolts through her entire body, ripples of pleasure storming beneath her skin and tensing her muscles in a spasm of euphoria as she comes, hard, against his hand and around his cock. She feels him shuddering as he finds his own release within her, rigid and trembling, and she collapses onto his chest, mouth finding his in a sloppy, quivering kiss of tongue, teeth. His touch roams freely across her skin, absorbing the aftershocks that quake through her from back to fingertip, as his lips pepper scratchy, breathless little kisses over her shoulder, her collarbone, her chest where her heart beats.

"I know you have work," he murmurs into her neck some time later, and she turns, stretches her back leisurely against him in response, angling her elbow behind her to rest a palm to his cheek, scratching his stubble as he continues, "so why don't I grab us a bit of breakfast from Granny's while you get ready for your day, darling?"

And her smile is now a full-fledged grin; the morning has been a resounding success, and it's not even six yet.

But, as he said before, two can play this game. And Regina doesn't know it yet, but winning will be a harder task than she had originally anticipated. As it turns out, Robin is a morning person after all, when properly motivated; and apparently there's no motivation quite like waking up his queen with his head between her legs, tongue lapping at her clit before she's even reached a fully conscious state, and then it hits her all at once as she gasps, writhes before him. No motivation quite like having to all but carry her downstairs when she finally comes to because her limbs still feel like jelly, and there's a bag of bagels and a steaming cup of coffee (she takes it black) already awaiting her on the kitchen counter.

"And what excuse should I give Mary Margaret when I show up late for my first day of school?" Henry challenges them several mornings later, and thank God Regina does not flush easily, or her face would be red to match the shade of her lip stain.

"Your mother just had a hard time getting out of bed this morning," says Robin casually, turning to throw a wink at Regina that Henry cannot see, and that she cannot return with more than a narrowed eye and a rather tight-lipped smile.

"That's kinda weird," says Henry dubiously, picking up the brown sack lunches Robin had evidently prepared for him and Roland while she was still passed out on their bed upstairs. "Mom's usually a morning person."

She glares openly at Robin's retreating form as he puts an arm around Henry's shoulder and walks him to the door, reaching for Roland with his other hand. Henry says something that has him throwing his head back with a hearty chuckle, and Regina grits her teeth.

She'll get him back for it tomorrow morning.


End file.
